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“Good. What happened then?”
“Iasked him to talk about it, someday in the future. He did his best to stay calm, to be nice, he really did, but eventually he shut down and Ileft.” What Ididn’tsay, not wanting to burden her more than needed, was how Ihad bawled my eyes out.
Laura paused again and Iheard sounds of apen or apencil tapping against asurface on her end. “Maybe talking about it isn’tthe solution. Maybe it doesn’tmatter at all.”
“What do you mean?”
“You have your history with your bastard of adad, Ihave my issues with my parents, and both of us have talked about it enough to fill alibrary with books about our issues.”
“Your point being…?”
“My point is, it never leaves, not entirely. You battle with the idea of arelationship because of your dad, and Iwork around the clock just to prove my parents wrong.” She filled her lungs with air, asharp loud intake. “Iagree with you that talking is important, but no one promises us life won’tcome back and bite us in the ass. Ithink it’smore important to be there for him, to take it one day at atime.”
And just like that Iwished Icould hug Thomas. But Icouldn’t, because of me. Because Thomas, as well as Laura, was right. You couldn’tpress some magic button to make your scars vanish.
“Talking about our pasts hurts,” she elaborated when Ianalyzed all of it in my head. “It would’ve saved alot of people alot of heartache if they could just go to ashrink, go to afriend, open up, and poof, it disappears. Sometimes though, sometimes it just fucking hurts.”
My lips trembled thinking about Thomas’swounded heart, the guilt returning with avengeance. “Did Ipush him too hard?”
“You had the best intentions, I’msure he’saware of that. Ithink it’sacase of you two starting to get to know each other, and sometimes we fall on landmines. And that’sokay.”
“What if it’ll grow? If Idon’tsay anything?” Iheaved awatery sigh, ashamed to sound weak, even with my best friend. “Idon’twant to end up like Mom.”
“Ilove you, Erin, and Idon’twant you to be anyone’sdoormat.” Her voice enveloped me, warmer than the blanket Ihad wrapped around myself. “But Thomas isn’tthe man who’dmop the floors with you. Izoomed in on every move he made last night, checking for any semblance of Greg, and it wasn’tthere. He adores you, looks at you like you are the most wonderful thing to walk the earth. What I’msaying is, it doesn’tlook like the same case. You’ll never know, though, if you run from him.”
“He didn’twant to talk to me.” Igave up on holding it together. Isobbed.
Her heels clicked in her apartment. “It doesn’tmatter. He adores you. You were both in abad place yesterday; today is anew day.”
“What if he won’tforgive me?” Iwiped my nose with the back of my hand, then fumbled for atissue.Gross.
“Acting like acrybaby is not agood look, Erin,” she spat out, giving me adose of tough love. “Snap out of it. Get out of bed, shower, and walk over there. No texting—we don’tneed any more misunderstandings.”
“And then?”
“Do Ihave to spell it out for you? Sheesh. Kiss the hell out of him and tell him you care, that you’ll find other ways to make this work. And last but not least, crazy make-up sex.” She snorted, making herself laugh. “You really do spend too much time with your paintings. Get more human hours, ASAP.”
“You’re the worst. Ilove you.”
After we hung up, Ishowered, cleaned myself up, and put on the skinny jeans that made my butt look cute. Idid it for myself more than anything, because Thomas didn’tcare. Thomas liked me in any shape or form, even with paint stains on my clothes and face. Cue the tears.
However, crying time had ended. Istood outside of Thomas’shome, my stomach in knots with my hand raised to knock on his door. Idropped my fist, then raised it again.
Woman-up, Erin.
Igazed down at myself, smoothed over my oversized cardigan just to do something with my hands instead of knock, and then Iactually knocked.
His footsteps echoed from inside. Itwisted my fingers, replaying what Iwanted to tell him. Was it,Miss you, want to kiss you?
Iwas so lost, Ishould’ve returned home and practiced it again and…
“Erin?” Thomas appeared in the doorway, observing me in silence.
Istared and stared, realizing that Icould only stare at him for so long without giving off stalker vibes as Iworked on figuring out whether he liked seeing me here or not.
“Is it okay if Icome in?” Isaid eventually. My days of acting like ascared mouse were behind me, and Ihad to own my new and strong self. Ihad to tell him Iwanted this, wanted him.
“Always.” He beckoned me into the warm living room.
